


A Disbelief in Sanity

by geekygingergirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekygingergirl/pseuds/geekygingergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy/Rory oneshot, set in the years between the Doctor's earliest visits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Disbelief in Sanity

Amelia marched ahead of him, head held high and hair a brilliant brushstroke against the lush green. Around them, trees rose far into the pale sky and animals waited just outside their lines of sight.  
“Wait!” Rory called, jogging a bit to keep up with the taller girl. They had been walking through the village for several minutes, with no explanation regarding their destination. But now that they were entering the forest…well, Rory’s father insisted that he take an adult if he was going outside the town borders. “Amelia! Where are we going?”  
“To our secret hideout,” she said, pausing a moment so that Rory could see the full gravity of her eyeroll. “Duh.” She kept walking.  
“Right,” he said, and made as if to follow her, but stopped again. “We don’t have a secret hideout.”  
Another eyeroll was practically audible in her voice as she replied. “We do now.”  
“You are beautiful,” Rory laughed under his breath, surprising even himself with the sentiment.  
“What?” she asked, whipping around.  
“You are insane,” he said, louder. “So where’s this secret hideout anyways?”

\--

She sprawled herself languidly atop the pile of books, legs flopping onto his and chin nestled in her hands. “I’m bored. Let’s leave.”  
“We can’t leave,” he sighed. “This is homework, Amy. We’ve got to finish.”  
“No, I don’t,” she said obstinately.  
“Yes you do!” Rory blustered. “If you don’t, you’ll get awful marks, and then you won’t get into university so you won’t get a good job or make any money.”  
“You sound just like, them, Rory! Come on. That’s your future, fine. But I’m going to run away with the Doctor, and if I don’t I can kiss people for money like Sarah does.”  
“Well,” Rory said, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. Heart pattering at what felt like ten times its normal speed and volume, he added, “If-if you’re going to kiss people for a living, you ought to get some practice starting now, right?” Rory winced, trying to gauge her reaction.  
Amy looked at him carefully, clearly surprised but trying to hide it. Her eyes moved over his face, settling on his lips before she snapped her gaze back down to the books. There was still silence from her, so Rory allowed himself a similar glance—across her long pale legs and up to her shoulders and her slender neck and the place between her collarbones. He studied the fall of red hair against her cheek; the curve of her lips; the freckles dotting her nose; the deep, deep green eyes blurred on the words she pretended to read. “Don’t be silly, Rory,” she said finally, breaking the spell, and leapt to her feet before the feelings could set in—the feelings of shame and regret, the feelings that would surely return later that night to plague him. “Come on! To the woods!”  
With a sad little laugh, Rory followed her out his bedroom door. “You are insane.”  
Amy spun back around to face him, arms braced against the doorframe and eyes alight with motion and possibility. “I don’t believe in sanity.”

\--

Rory sat on the fringes of the group, feeling a little out of place as usual. The other guys were bigger, louder- generally more ‘masculine’. One of their favorite pastimes was belittling Rory, be it by intention or simply due to the nature of their personalities.  
“Hey Rory,” Andrew called from across the room, a smirk lying crookedly across his face. “Have you shagged Amy yet?”  
Rory felt himself go hot and a rash of anxiety and anger spread like wildfire through his body. “N-no, Andy, I haven’t. She’s not- not that kind of girl.” He winced at the cliché and at the hesitation in his voice.  
“Oh yeah? ‘Cos she’s done at least two of us lot and Jeff says there were loads of others.”  
“What are you implying?” Rory asked, fear keeping his anger quiet.  
“All ‘e’s saying is she’s not exactly hard to get in bed,” one of the other boys laughed. And something in Rory snapped. He bolted upright, fists raised and-

“You are insane,” Amy breathed, pressing a cool cloth onto his bruised face. She was kneeling in front of him on his kitchen floor, armed with a pile of antiseptics and bandages. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe Jeff and Andy beat you up for no reason whatsoever.”  
“Well, that’s what happened,” Rory said weakly. She glared at him. He shrugged sheepishly. She rolled her eyes.  
“Tell me.” He shrugged again. Amy stood up and paced out of Rory’s window of sight (he couldn’t move his head without a lot of pain and blurriness), sighing, “Rory Arthur Williams, I swear to God if you don’t tell me now exactly what happened I’m not taking you to the dance next week.”  
“Wh-what? I thought- Jeff…” he trailed off. His head was pounding, and he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined what she’d just said.  
“Forget Jeff. We’re going together, okay? Best friends. We both need this.”  
Rory’s hopes dropped by a few degrees at the word ‘friends’, but they were still considerably higher than they had been a few minutes before. “Mels is your best friend.”  
“I can’t take my best girl friend to a dance. Now you have two minutes to tell me what really happened.”  
“Fine,” he groaned. “I- Andy and the others said you were easy. So I punched him. Or tried to.”  
“Rory,” she said, pausing and looking at him closely with a peculiar little sad smile. “Um- Rory, you didn’t have to. I- I mean, thanks? But you really didn’t need to, I mean, I hear it all the time….Oh, God, what am I supposed to say to that?”  
“You don’t need to say anything to that. And of course I had to. We’re best friends, right?”  
“Right,” she smiled, leaning down and brushing her lips on his forehead. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her as she whisked away from him towards the door.  
“And, Rory?” she said, and he opened his eyes.  
“Yeah?”  
“Not that- not that it’s any of your business, and n- not that it matters either way, but…they’re just lying ‘cause they’re jealous. I haven’t shagged any of them.”  
“Right,” he said. “Good. I mean- not good. Like you say. Fine either way.”  
“Right,” Amy grinned at him and began to let herself out through the back door. “My dress is green.”  
“What?”  
“My dress. For the dance. So your corsage should probably be white or maybe yellow.”  
He laughed croakily. “You are insane.”  
“Bye-bye to you too!”  
And she disappeared.

\--

“Uh, hey, Mels,” Rory said, hovering with the phone at his ear.  
“Rory, hello,” she said languidly. “Are you calling for my advice on how to finally ask Amy out?”  
“What?” Rory squeaked. “Uh, no, no. Nope. No. Ha. Er. I was just wondering, um….what’s a corsage?”

\--

“Rory?” she croaked, and he could tell instantly that she had been crying. He dropped his book and scurried out of the room with a nod of apology to his father.  
“Hey, Amy, what is it?” he whispered as soon as he was out into the hallway.  
“Um, can you come over?” she asked, voice high and broken.  
“Yeah, of course,” Rory said, maneuvering into his coat with the phone still pressed to his ear. “What’s wrong?”  
The tenderness in his voice melted Amy, and she dissolved into tears again. “I’m, uh, having some trouble getting ready for the dance,” she said with a watery little laugh, and he smiled. Things couldn’t be too bad if her sense of humor was still intact.

Rory arrived at Amy’s house within minutes, letting himself in with the key from under the dead flower pot. Aunt Sharon was not home, she never was, but she didn’t know he knew about the key so he placed it back very carefully before heading up to Amy’s room.  
Rory knocked softly on the doorframe before entering. She was hunched over on her bed, shoulders barely shaking, but the occasional sniff or gasp was audible. On the bed in front of her lay a pair of scissors. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, Amy. Um, Amy,” he said, trying to disguise the tears that were making their way into his voice too. He stepped towards her, and when she didn’t resist, Rory snatched the scissors away and tossed them across the room.  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he sat in front of her, taking her hands in his. He turned them over, heart racing and head aching. No blood. No blood, thank God.  
“Amy, Amy,” he sighed, in relief and sorrow. Rory pulled her towards him and into his arms. She seemed so small, suddenly, so frail, in contrast to her usual biting bravery and brilliant madness. “Hey. It’s okay.”  
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t actually have. I- I don’t think I would. But I felt like…,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “Like I was so screwed up in every other way that I had to do something stupid like this too, y’know?”  
No, I don’t know. God, I don’t. “Yeah, it’s okay, Amy. It’s okay, right? It’s gonna be okay.”  
“I dunno,” she whimpered. “Sometimes I don’t really think it is.”  
Rory gently pried her off him and hurried to her desk, shuffling through piles of paper and scraps of fabric until he found what he was looking for.  
“’Course it’s gonna be okay. The Doctor’s coming, huh?” Rory pressed the dusty little papier mache figurine into her hands and she laughed a little, turning the toy over in her hands.  
“He’s not, Rory, but thank you. And I’m s- sorry you had to see me like this,” she gestured to her red, swollen face and damp, straggly hair.  
“Sorry? How could- Amy, how can you be sorry?” he said weakly, taking her hands in his again. “Thank you for trusting me, for calling me. We’re going to make it alright.”  
“Yeah,” she smiled tearily. “Could- could you stay here? At least for tonight?”  
“Yeah,” he smiled too, and then added for some reason unbeknownst to him, “Do you want to invite Mels?”  
“Stop thinking about me too much,” Amy scoffed. She knew him where he did not, and vice versa. “I want it to be quiet, okay? That’s why I called you. Mels is too much like me. Not good at the emotional stuff. The quiet stuff. And I know you don’t like her.”  
“I don’t don’t like her!” Rory protested. “She’s fine, she’s lovely, she’s your friend.”  
“I see how you look at her, all angry and protective. You think she’s bad for me. You probably think she’s how I ended up like this.”  
“I don’t-“ he started again. “Amy, how did this turn into a fight? Quiet night, remember?”  
“Quiet night,” she repeated, smoothing her fingers into his hair.  
“Quiet night,” he breathed.  
She fell asleep curled on the bed only a few minutes later, and Rory drifted off on the floor an hour or so later than that. He slipped out early the next morning feeling lighter and heavier all at the same time.

\--

“Hey,” Rory said, the epitome of nervous joy. He couldn’t stop wiping his damp palms on the borrowed dress pants, and checked himself twice in every mirror to be sure his tie was straight, his hair was flat, his fly was zipped.  
Amy opened the door with a grin on her face. He was sure it was real, which seemed at odds with the last time he’d seen her—bare, broken her, with tears on her cheeks and scissors on her bed. But he couldn’t think long about that, because she was smiling at him and she was wearing a tight green dress and she was so, so beautiful. “Hi.”  
“Er, so, you ready?” he asked.  
“Yeah, ‘course. But, um, Sharon wanted pictures,” she grimaced.  
“Oh, that’s, that’s cool,” he said, biting back a smile. It gave him a chance to pretend, even for just a few minutes, that he was Amy’s boyfriend and she his girlfriend.  
“SHARON!” Amy shouted over her shoulder, making him jump, and turned back to Rory. The two fell into a rare and awkward silence.  
“Um, you look really nice,” Rory tried hopefully. To prevent her from noticing his blush, he stumbled on—“Is this corsage okay? You said white or yellow, so I sort of went in between, I dunno….”  
She laughed. “It’s called cream, and yes, it’s fine. And thank you. You look nice too. But not like Rory.” Amy reached out and ruffled his hair. “That’s better.”  
“If you’re allowed to do that, then I should be allowed to do this too,” he said, and in a fit of daring, stretched his hands behind her head and removed the clip that was holding her hair up. It fell out in soft, sweet-smelling waves of red and gold and she looked at him with surprised delight. “That’s better.”  
“I’ve got the camera then,” Aunt Sharon said, emerging from behind Amy, and Rory ducked aside, embarrassed.  
Amy pulled him by the hand out into the yard (she was taller than him with her silvery heels, and they prevented her from running with her usual bounce and skip) and in front of the apple tree that stood there. The camera began to click, and Rory slid his hand with certain uncertainty onto her waist. She leaned into him very slightly. He could pretend.

\--

They walked to the dance, both conscious of the other’s arm swinging near their own. Conversation came in slow and jagged bursts, but it still wasn’t quite unpleasant. Rory made several attempts at polite conversation before he tried something a little more substantial. “Er, Amy, about the other night. Is, um, ev-“  
“No,” she said, voice suddenly going harsh and brittle. “No, you aren’t allowed to talk about that, that was the point, okay? And I’m obviously fine now.”  
“Right, sorry,” Rory said, shrinking into himself. The light spring air had gone dark and heavy with her words. “Sorry.”  
“It’s fine,” she sighed, recognizing his shame. But it wasn’t quite enough to return them to the same joyful anticipation as before.  
The last few blocks were passed in total silence, and they reached the school with heads down. Amy ran ahead of him up the steps to the gym, from which was spilling over with loud music, blue lights, and giggling teens. Rory bit his lip in anticipation. Why did Amy even like these things anyways? It wasn’t as if she was particularly social, and she tended to avoid anything that would make her seem ordinary. He tried to catch up, but lost her into the crowds as soon as she entered the gym. Damn it.  
Mels found Rory a few minutes later, hunched back into the corner. She shoved a plastic cup that should have been filled with just punch into his hands, but he sniffed it with suspicion.  
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she sighed. “Don’t be such a prissy.”  
“What is it?” he whispered, glancing around for teachers.  
“Punch,” she said with a manic grin. Rory glared at her but took a swig. It burned his throat and he almost choked. “Sooo I see the date isn’t going well, is it?” She asked with raised eyebrows.  
“It’s not a date,” Rory grumbled, feeling pathetic.  
“Yeah it is,” Mels rolled her eyes.  
“She doesn’t think it is.”  
“That’s why you need to go find her and dance with her. And then kiss her.”  
“Mels…” he started, with no end to the sentence in sight.  
“Rory,” she said, with a wink and almost flirtatious twist to her voice.  
He glared again, and she could practically see all the thoughts and arguments and questions passing over his face. “Okay,” he decided. “I’ll try. But you aren’t allowed to watch.”  
“Deal,” she grinned, raising her own cup to him. He could feel her eyes following him as he weaved through the dancers in search of Amy. To his surprise, she was not grinding on Jeff or any of the others, but leaning up against the opposite wall, looking very tired.  
“Hey,” Rory said, attempting to sidle up next to her and nearly spilling the ‘punch’ on her.  
“Hey,” she said, with a friendly little snort at his stumble.  
“Um, you….wanna dance?” he asked.  
She made a face at him.  
“We could….go out into the hallway,” he suggested nervously. “Get away from all of…this.” He gestured at their classmates, yelling and dancing and making out and being generally making fools of themselves, and nearly spilled the drink again.  
Amy bit her lip. “Fine,” she said finally, slipping her hand along his side and into his palm. Rory shivered. She dragged him out into the hallway, past a pair of bored chaperones.  
“How’s the dance?” he asked carefully, as they turned to face each other next to a row of lockers. She was so close, her hand still tight in his.  
She gave him such a look that he almost stepped back in terror. “Sorry.”  
Rory began to hear the faint but ever recognizable sounds of the Macarena coming from the gymnasium. “So, Amy,” he said, looking into her eyes, pupils huge and black in the semidarkness. Her gaze remained on him, unwavering, almost like a dare. He glanced away for a split second to build up the strength, and then he did it. Rory leaned into Amy, his lips meeting hers at last. They were cold, but so soft, and she responded almost instantly, stretching her arms up and around his neck. He pressed his lips harder into hers, and they swayed back into the lockers. He felt far away, because this couldn’t be happening and something so wonderful could never happen to him, but he was undeniably there, and so was she, and she was kissing him back.  
They pulled away then, ever so slightly, so their eyes were locked again, and Amy’s lips were parted with the tiniest hint of a smile on them. Rory laughed shakily and stared back, before a thought hit him suddenly. There were never any explanations of what happens after a kiss. You’re supposed to kiss the girl, and then- then…..then what? You’re suddenly boyfriend and girlfriend? Or you kiss again? Or you awkwardly walk away? Rory thought the second option sounded the best, at least for the time being, but as he leaned towards her, Amy put a finger up to his lips. “Why did it take so long for you to do that?” she said breathlessly.  
“I-“ Rory was stunned almost speechless. “I- twelve years old. I suggested we practice kissing,” he announced, starting to count off on his fingers, but he quickly realized that he couldn’t remember a single other example.  
“We were twelve, Rory! I-“ she laughed, shocked. “I didn’t- God, I barely even remember that! It’s been years!”  
“Well, I’ve done it now, haven’t I?” he said, giving an awkward little jazz hands motion.  
“Yeah, you have,” she said, still laughing a little. “So do it again.”


End file.
